Return to Darkness
by Wyntir Rose
Summary: Donatello returns to the CF Vopelhart building and is introduced to a strange, cyclopean terror. Together with Raphael, he must finish what was begun, and stop the return of an evil more ancient than time itself. Fic is on indefinite leave.
1. Just the Beginning

Chapter 1: Just The Beginning

**Disclaimer:** TMNT and all characters belong to Mirage. I claim no ownership by writing this work.

My brothers and I had just completed a patrol run of the city when I saw something that stopped me cold. I stood at the edge of the roof just staring at the building across the way as my brothers continued on their run.

"Uhm, guys?" I called after them. "I think you'd better come back and see this."

"What is it Donatello?" Leo asked, coming back to stand beside me. He sounded annoyed. But that was pretty normal ever since Karai stabbed him.

I looked at Leo for a moment, the pointed down at the building that had caught my attention.

"There," I said simply.

"What the shell!" Leo breathed.

Standing across the street was the CF Vopelhart building. With all the windows lit, the line of cars, and the people it hardly looked like the condemned building that we had entered all those months ago. But there was no mistaking it. Someone had given the building a complete overhaul, restoring it to its former 'glory', but in my eyes it was still hideous. Looking at it sent a chill up my spine and I think Leo felt the same. He tensed next to me, and I knew he was glaring at the structure.

"What's it still doing there?" Leo growled.

"I can't even begin to hazard a guess," I muttered.

I felt Mike and Raph come up behind us and stop. Obviously, they too were surprised by what they saw.

"Whoah!" Mikey gasped.

"I thought Angel said they was terrin' that thing down," Raph said.

Leo merely grunted and started back with his run. The others followed after a mment's hesitation, but I stayed behind, watching the people enter the old structure, seemingly intent on the party within.

"Yo bro!" Mikey called back. "You commin'? C'mon, Donnie, it's just a building."

True. Since we – no, since Leo – defeated the thing in there it was just a house. I turned to go, and then stopped. Looking down I saw a woman and a man staring up at me. I tried to dismiss it that they were just looking up, but somehow I knew that they saw me.

Something told me that this was just the beginning. Whatever was coming, it wasn't going to be good.


	2. A Call in the Night

**Chapter 2: A Call in the Night**

_Disclaimer: TMNT and all characters belong to Mirage. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

I got back to the lair with my brothers and immediately headed for my room. They may not have thought anything of the refurbishment of the Vopelhart Building, but something about the whole thing left me cold. Logically, I knew that it had probably just been saved from the axe by a new buyer. These things happened all the time in New York, and especially in Manhattan, where space was at a premium. Maybe I was just being overly sensitive. After all, the thing had tortured us for what felt like an eternity. It's only normal that I'd be a bit afraid of the building, as a direct representation of the thing that once lived within it. Even today, I'm still plagued by nightmares of that house … when I'm not reliving that horrible, post-apocalyptic future I was sent to …. There was a time when I would have listened to logic, but now, I think I've seen too much. God knows I've experienced things that defy logic.

After far too much internal debate, I decided to do some research on the building. Being a giant mutated turtle, my options were somewhat limited, but luckily the City of New York had recently entered the 21st century and had begun to digitize their files. Fortunately for me, the security was still something out of the Dark Ages, so hacking into the systems was no problem at all. Unfortunately, most of the information I found wasn't from the city's files, but from the local newspapers.

I spent half the night on the computer. I knew I would pay for my lack of sleep tomorrow during our morning katas, but I wasn't finding what I wanted, and I wasn't about to give up. What I did learn was that the building had been scheduled for demolition when it was suddenly declared a heritage structure and purchased by a charitable organization called "The Metropolitan Club" as their new headquarters. The party I had seen was a dinner gala to raise money for a local homeless shelter. It was strictly a high end affair. Apparently The Metropolitan Club was charging two-fifty a plate and selling tickets by the table. The money raised would allow the shelter to expand its facilities to allow for an outreach program, a rehab clinic, and a soup kitchen. It seemed odd that a building that had housed such evil was now being used for such a worthy cause.

It was all pathetically little information for over three hours work. My biggest problem was that the city hadn't digitized enough of their files. My only option was to go to the records office in person, and that would require breaking in. This was something I would definitely have to sleep on. As I as pondering the whole matter, I was surprised to see a text message pop up on my screen.

"Working late, NonFinito?" came a text from someone called OperaMan. I ignored it. I didn't know anyone by that handle, but occasionally I did get random messages.

"Yo. You there dude?" OpearaMan wrote. When I continued to ignore him, he dropped a bombshell on me. "Vopelhart is just the tip of the iceberg."

"Excuse me?" I typed in.

"Thought that'd get your attention. By the way, I like the handle. Nice to see a Donato fan." OperaMan replied.

"Who is this?" I asked.

"A fellow voyeur and art critic," came the cryptic reply.

"Seriously. Who is this? I'm in no mood for games," I wrote. I didn't know what the shell was going on, but it was getting ridiculous. Maybe Mikey had spoken to Angel and she was playing some kind of trick. But it wasn't like Angel or Mikey to get the art reference in my handle.

"No games, NonFinito, no games. That'd be for folks who don't know the world like we do. I can help you get in touch with those who can help with Vopelhart. Consider me a middle man," OperaMan message said.

Now he had more of my attention. But I wasn't about to rise to the bait. "What makes you think I'm interested?

"I've got eyes everywhere my little green man. We saw you watching the gala tonight. We know you checked into the house a while back. We know you know."

I caught my breath. This wasn't Angel playing a trick. It could have been the two people who saw me on the roof, but I didn't like the idea that they had tracked me to my computer. This was a serious breach of my security. So I shut OperaMan down.

"You have the wrong guy, buddy."

"Okay, we can play it your way," OperaMan replied. "But I'm figuring that you'll only get so far online. If you want more info then come to The Ramble in Central Park. Tomorrow night. 1300 hours."

With that the mysterious OperaMan logged off.


	3. The Ramble

_Disclaimer:_ TMNT and all characters belong to Mirage. I claim no ownership by writing this work.

_**Author's Note:** I named the meeting place 'The Briar' in the last chapter. This should have read 'The Ramble'. This error has been fixed in the previous chapter._

* * *

The next day was as bad as I had predicted it would be. I was lethargic and off my game, and after sparing with Leo, I was bruised all over.

"What is wrong with you, Donatello?" Leo growled. "This isn't a game! Now FOCUS!"

"Sorry, Leo. I'm just a little tired, I guess." Of course, that was no excuse. Not anymore.

"That's no excuse! Do you really think that our enemies will have any sympathy?"

This was really getting old. If Bishop was going to attack, all the ninjitsu in the world would help us. Of course, I could never point that out to Leo. He'd flip out more than he already was. So I did the only thing I could. I gave up.

"You're right, Leo. Sorry," I said, getting back into a defensive position. This was going to hurt, but if it would get Leo off my shell, then I was willing to play along.

The morning continued like that. It had become as predictable as clockwork. First, Leo chewed us out for not being serious. Then, Mikey reminded everyone that he was the Battle Nexus Champion and didn't need the training, at which point, Raph started wailing on him. Splinter finally put an end to the whole thing by coming out of his room. Normally the routine called for Splinter to call Leo in at this point. Today the routine changed.

"Donatello. Please come see me," Master Splinter said. It was not a request. I was floored. I was never called in by Master Splinter. Ever.

Mikey said something about going to the Principal's office and Raph backhanded him as I entered Master Splinter's room.

Please shut the door, Donatello." I did as I was told and came to sit down in front of him.

Master Splinter remained silent for quite some time, apparently contemplating his tea. I remained quiet and patient. I had learned long ago that fidgeting would not be tolerated.

Finally, Master Splinter sighed, put his tea down, and looked at me intently. I could feel his eyes boring into me, stripping me bare. It was a feeling I didn't like.

"You have shown a distinct lack of focus in recent months, my son. What is troubling you?

"Nothing's wrong, Sensei. I just didn't sleep well last night." Not exactly a lie. Not exactly the truth either, but I hoped he would let it go. Besisdes, it was Leo he should be talking with, not me.

"It seems that you have not been sleeping well for quite some time, my son," Splinter said, looking at me intently. "However, I will not force you to tell me what the matter is."

I knew what that meant. 'I won't force you to tell me, but I'll be disappointed if you don't'. Of course, Splinter would never use those words. He'd never let us know that he was disappointed in any of us, but the words hung in the air nonetheless. I thought about telling him everything, just as I had thought of telling him all this time.

I had never told him about the future where Shredder ruled; the future where I had abandoned Splinter and Casey to their deaths and had killed my brothers with my ill-conceived plan. I had never told him that I had watched everyone I know die in the Vopelhart building because I was too weak, too slow, and too undisciplined to help them.

I thought of telling Splinter all these things, but dismissed the idea instantly. We were fighting one enemy who had the government at his beck and call and another that could attack us on the psychic plane. No, Splinter didn't need my paranoia added to his already heavy burden.

"I'm sorry, Master Splinter, but really, there's nothing that I need to talk about." Again, not a lie, but not the truth either.

Splinter's whiskers drooped at that, and it tore me apart to see it, but it was for the best all around. He dismissed me and I headed back to my room.

The talk with Splinter had just steeled my resolve. I could no longer spend my time running from what scared me. My fears were coming to the surface and they were interfering with my ability to function. Worse yet, they were worrying Master Splinter. I couldn't have that. No, it was time I took the proverbial bull by the horns and faced my fear head on. To do that, I needed answers. And I knew just where to find them.

That night I gathered my gear and prepared to head out. I'd reached the door when Leo stopped me.

"Where are you going, Donatello?"

"I need to go to the junkyard to get a few extra parts," I said, not turning around.

"I don't want any of us out there alone. It's too dangerous," he said.

"Leo, I'll be fine. I know what I'm doing and I can get most of the way there underground," I said. I had really been hoping to avoid a fight.

"C'mon, Leo! Let 'im go. We don't need you t' be our baby sitter," Raph said. I hadn't expected any defence from him, but I'd take allies where I could get them.

"It's too dangerous for any of us to go out alone. There are too many people after us," Leo growled, turning on Raph.

"Look, Splinter Junior …" And the fight was on.

I didn't wait around to see what happened. I just beat a hasty retreat.

I was able to make it to Central Park by sticking to the sewers and subway tunnels. The strange thing was that I felt like I was being followed the whole way. It was nothing I could put my finger on. No sound, sight, or smell gave my pursuer away, and yet, I still knew he was there. It was that feeling you get when you know someone is staring at the back of your head. If I had hair, it would've been standing on end. It was disconcerting to say the least, but I kept on, hoping to loose whoever it was in The Ramble.

I arrived at the Ramble Arch and stuck to the shadows, keeping my senses alert for those I was meeting and whoever it was who was following me. After about five minutes of silent observation and searching I saw my contacts in a nearby clearing. For the briefest of moments I thought one of the two was Bishop. A tall slender man dressed in a tailored suit, long hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. I moved silently closer and realized that this was the man I had seen at the party. He was blonde whereas Bishop had dark hair, but other than that the resemblance was uncanny. He leaned against a tree speaking softly with his companion.

She was the woman I had seen last night. Tall and muscular, with curly red hair, she was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Surprisingly, she looked far less at ease in the surroundings than her companion did.

I crouched in the undergrowth for a bit longer before making my presence known.

"I'm assuming you're OperaMan?" I called out, trusting the acoustics of the woods to mask my location.

"You assume wrong, Monsieur Vert," the man said in a New Orleans accent. "But this meeting was set up by him."

"Why don't you come out into the open?" the woman asked. She sounded vaguely British.

"I'm fine right here thank you," I replied. "What do you know of the CF Vopelhart Building?"

"Well, this one cuts right to the chase don't he, ma cousine?" the man asked of his companion.

"Have we given him any reason not to? But goodness! Where are our manners? Here we are and no introduction has passed our lips," she said. "I am Grace Carter. And this is my cousin, Etienne. And you are …?"

"A concerned citizen," I said guardedly. Both Bishop and Karai had the ability to come across as the picture of civility. I wasn't about to let some manners put me off my guard.

"Alright then, how about we just call you Non Finito?" she asked.

I remained silent. I was willing to wait until they stopped playing games.

Grace sighed in exasperation, but Etienne just leaned back against his tree and chuckled.

"I told you he wouldn't trust us quite so readily, ma chère," he said. "We need to provide him with some form of solid proof that we have what we claim. That, and proof that we aren't part of the Earth Protection Force."

Etienne cocked his head to the side and scratched his left ear, then turned and looked directly at my location.

"We can provide you with this." Etienne pulled a micro-disk jewel case from a pocket. "I'm leaving you this. It contains news clippings and information of the Vopelhart building and the Metropolitan Club. You'll find what you're looking for in there. I'm also leaving you an address where we can be reached in the city. Check out the disk, then make up your own mind." He began to approach my location holding the disk out for me to take.

"Step into my parlour said the spider to the fly," I thought to myself, as I backed slowly away.

Suddenly we were all stopped by a yelp from across the clearing, followed by the sound of something being smashed. There was an indignant cry, a thump, then silence.

"Why don't you toss the disk inta the woods, and I won't havta break any more of yer toys. Or yer friend here," a voice growled from somewhere in the woods.

I recognized Raphael immediately and grinned to myself.

"All right," said Etienne, dropping his arms to his sides, "we'll do this your way, if you'd prefer."

He handed the disk to Grace, who tossed it lightly into the woods near where I was hiding.

"That's all we have. Everything else has been cleared away by the Metropolitan Club," Grace explained.

"You trust it?" Raph whispered.

I nearly jumped out of my shell, but managed not to cry out.

"Raph! What are you doing here?" I hissed.

"Well, ain't that a nice greetin'. I was curious an' I followed," he replied with a smirk. "Good thing I did, too. The kid on the other side had you pegged and was talkin' t' giggles over there," he added, nodding toward the clearing.

"Sorry, Raph. You startled me, that's all."

"So what's the deal wit' those two?" Rash asked.

"They were at the party at the Vopelhart building, and last night one of them pinged me on-line," I replied. "At first I thought it was Mikey playing a joke, but they knew too much, and it was too weird to be him or Angel."

"This Vopelhart thing's really got you bent outta shape, don't it?" Raph asked, looking at me askance.

"You know, we can continue this conversation anytime you like, Non-Finito," Grace called, interrupting our conversation.

I looked at Raph and he gestured for me to go ahead.

"All right," I said. "So you have a disk that you claim has factual information on it. Why should I believe anything you say? How is this proof that I can trust you?"

"It isn't. But I know what you felt when you passed by the house you felt it, otherwise you wouldn't have stopped. And the fact that you're here means that you're open," Grace said.

"Felt what?" I asked, knowing, in the pit of my stomach exactly what she was talking about, and hoping that I was wrong.

"You felt the wrongness emanating from that place. You felt it when you were in there, and you felt it again last night," Grace said.

Raphael shivered next to me. He had felt that same wrongness last night too, just as Leo and Mikey had. I was the only one who had acknowledged it at the time, but that didn't change anything.

Etienne continued where Grace had left off. "It's only a matter of time before some drunk or druggie stumbles on us. We have a safer place that we can meet, if you and your friend want. And assuming that you haven't hurt our friend."

"He's fine. You'll find him where ya left 'im," Raph called out.

"You still haven't given us any reason to go anywhere with you," I replied.

"True," said Grace. "I can only suggest that you go home and check out the disk."

"In the end," Etienne said, "we're not that different from you. Consider us a new faction in your life. And unlike some of the others, we're actually on your side."

With that, Etienne and Grace turned and headed into the trees.

Raph sighed and crossed his arms over his plastron. "This don't make any sense, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," I replied. "But I need closure on this whole thing."

"Well, count me in. I guess I need closure too. And it'll piss the shell outta Leo," Raph added with a grin.


	4. Looking Down the Rabbit Hole

**Chapter 4: Looking Down the Rabbit Hole**

_Disclaimer:  
This is a work of Fanfiction. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all characters are property of Mirage Studios, and are licensed to Imagi Entertainment and Warner Brothers. I do claim ownership of my Original Characters, and any similarity between their names and those of existing characters in Fanfiction or Canon is purely coincidental. I make no profit from this work._

_Author's Note: I apologize for the lateness of this update. Unfortunately I managed to stack too much onto my plate, but I seem to have it a bit more in control now. Also, I want to tahnk everyone for their kind comments and reviews. Now that I finally understand how things work, I'll be replying to all signed reviews personally. ... yeah, I'm a slow learner sometimes._

* * *

We got home later that night and were lucky enough to sneak in past Leo. Had I been alone, I wouldn't have been able to manage it, but Raph had been doing this for years and knew all the ins and outs of the lair. I quickly headed back to my room and got my virus checker working on the disk. There was no way I was going to trust the thing just because Grace and Etienne claimed to be on our side.

"So, what's on it?" Raph asked, coming up to stand behind me.

"I have no idea yet, but whatever it is it's huge. My virus checker should be able to handle a gig of info in no time but it's estimating almost an hour to check it all. Even if the press clippings are jaypegs there must be hundreds of them. This could take a long time to go over," I replied.

"Right …," Raph said as if I had grown a second head.

I sighed inwardly. I hated when my brothers acted like I was speaking Greek. "I'll let you know once I've gotten something," I said quietly, turning back to my computer.

As soon as I heard Raph leave the room I picked up The Great Gatsby and began reading. I sat in silence for a long time; the only sound was the soft hum of my computer. I had just gotten to the part where Daisy runs Myrtle down with Jay's car when my computer beeped. I looked up and saw a message flashing on the screen. OperaMan was trying to contact me.

"Good evening OperaMan," I typed.

"Yo, NonFinito. It hurts man, it really hurts," he said

"What? And why should I care?" I asked.

"Dude! And here I thought we were friends, but you had to go an sick your thug on me," he said.

"You thought wrong. Friend implies trust and it implies that I know with whom I'm talking," I sent back.

"Aw, man, don't take the Mister and Missus too seriously," he said. "They mean well, but they're not big on trusting short green dudes."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Did you take a look at the disk?" he asked.

"Checking it," I replied.

"Your virus checking? Dude that hurts worse than the broken arm your thug gave me. You'd think you didn't trust us," he said.

"Whatever would give you that idea?" I typed back.

"Whatever, dude. Look, run all the checks you like, then get back to me when you're satisfied that we're the good guys. No rush. It's not like the world's in danger. … Oh, wait, it is," he said, then immediately logged off.

"I never broke his arm," Raph said from behind me.

I think I nearly hit the ceiling I jumped so high.

"Raph! Jesus Christ! Don't sneak up on me!" I whispered harshly.

Raph chuckled darkly, "Don't let Leo hear you talk like that. He'll have you sparin' blindfolded until ya become 'aware of your surroundings'." He held out a plate of pizza for me. "I thought you might need this. An' after that jump I'm glad I didn't bring th' coffee too," he added with a chuckle.

He opened a bottle of beer and sat down next to me.

"It's about halfway done with the virus check … mind you, if OperaMan came up with something new, then all the checking in the world won't help," I said, poking at the pizza.

"Then why're you doing it? I'd think it'd just be a huge waste o' time. After all, if these guys wanted us, they could come get us at any time they like. Why bother messin' with yer computer?" Raph asked. He took a long swig of his beer.

"Call it healthy paranoia," I replied. I put the pizza down and turned to face Raph. "Did you break his arm?" I asked.

"Nope," he said. "Mighta pulled a muscle or a tendon, but I didn't break it. He'd've known if I had. … Mind you, he's probably not gonna be friendly with Mr. Happy fer a while," Raph chuckled.

I turned back to the computer, trying to ignore Raph's crass comment. I ate my pizza in silence and watched the progress bar on the virus checker slowly climb towards 100 percent complete.

Raph stretched out next to me and we sat in companionable silence. It's surprising that we don't find ourselves spending more time together. I think we have more in common than either of us realize; like the joy of silence. Mikey always fills the quiet with mindless babble. It's as if he can't stand to be alone with his own thoughts. I remember that even when we were little and were doing quiet things he'd be humming or singing to himself. And Leo makes the silence oppressive, like he's waiting for an answer that you can never successfully give. Both Raph and I enjoyed silence for what it was. Solitude.

Finally my system beeped that it was done and I opened the folder. I was not disappointed by what I found inside, though I have to admit that I was a little confused. Everything was neatly organized in separate folders, some marked as press clippings, some identified as primary and secondary sources, some were specific to the building, and others specific to the Metropolitan Club. There were hundreds of images, sound files, and documents of every designation imaginable.

"This could take a while," Raph muttered, looking over my shoulder at the monitor.

٭٭٭

The next morning both Raph and I were exhausted. The normal routine began, but this time, Splinter never came out of his room and Raph and Leo's fight came to blows before Mikey and I could tear them apart. Our katas ended early and we all went our separate ways, leaving an oppressive silence hanging over the lair.

I headed back to my room to continue my examination of the disk and wasn't surprised to find that Raph had followed me in.

"Mind if I hang out here?" he asked, throwing himself on my bed before waiting for my reply.

"Yeah, sure, no problem," I replied, distracted by an article on my screen.

"I swear one of these days he's gonna push me to far!" Raph growled.

"Which one? Leo or Mikey?" I asked, not looking away from the map that had popped up.

"Hmph. Either. Both. … Probably both," Raph said. I guess he must have noticed my distraction because I suddenly found him leaning over my shoulder.

"What is that?" he asked. "Is that New York?"

"Yeah," I replied slowly. "It's New York in the 30s. More specifically, it's Harlem in 1932. See these red dots?" I asked, pointed to 10 well placed dots on the map.

"Yeah," Raph replied. "An' I see the blue one too. What are they?"

"The red ones represent specific murder victims found that year. The blue dot is the Vopelhart building,"

"Okay, so? Ten murders in Harlem sounds pretty normal," Raph said.

"It would be pretty much normal then too, especially considering all the speakeasies and the racial tensions," I said. "But it seems that these murders were unusual enough to make the papers. Mind you, they were buried in the back and the story is blaming the alcohol, jazz, and the black population, but…." I felt Raph place his hands on my shoulders and press down.

"Is there a point, Donnie?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," I stammered. "The murders seem to have been ritualistic. And if you connect the locations, you get a pentagram with the Vopelhart building in the dead center."

"Some strange murders in the thirties isn't exactly somethin' t' go on, Donnie," he said. He still hadn't taken his hands off my shoulders.

"The same murders occur again in 1962, and in the 1992. And there's some stories here of similar murders in 1902, 1872, 1842 … every thirty years." As I spoke new maps overlaid the first. The ten red dots on each map remained consistently in place. "All the older stories say is that the deaths seemed ritualized. But in the cases in '92 the cops did a more thorough investigation and then just stopped after the eighth body showed up," I said, trying to twist around and look up at him for a reaction, but Raph held me in place, his hands tightening on my shoulders.

He leaned forward as he looked at the PDF of the police file.

"They were all homeless, so the cops just didn't care," he muttered darkly. "… Okay, so it's more than coincidence, but what's it got to do with the building and the Metro Club?"

"I'm still not sure," I sighed. "There's just too much information here. It's like … it's like overload."

Raph moved away from me and threw himself back on the bed. He placed his hands behind his head and just stared at the ceiling. I watched him for a moment and then turned back to the computer. Studying the building itself was obviously getting us nowhere. We already knew that there was something unbelievably evil inside it and whatever it was had been there since the place was built. When it came down to usable facts, OperaMan had actually provided very little.

I decided that it was time to change my tack, and look instead at the Metropolitan Club itself. The newspaper articles provided were less than helpful. They described the stellar achievements of and charitable endeavours of the club. There were videos of the gala openings of soup kitchens and food banks where celebrities dished out plates of turkey and stuffing. Magazine stories revolving around interviews with the CEO and President, a humble, and, frankly, good-looking young man named Kamen al-Anhur. All my reading lead back to the same place; the Metropolitain Club was populated by saints. Finally, in frustration, I violently pushed my chair away from the terminal.

"This is ridiculous!" I cried. "There's nothing here that I didn't already know. What the hell am I supposed to find?"

Raphael sat up and looked at me in silence for a long time. "Fine, so all this got us nothing. All we know is that there are probably going to be more murders in …2022. Great. I'm goin' t' bed … Leo should be off his rampage by now."

"Fine, whatever," I muttered.

Raph got up to leave, but suddenly stopped and stared at my monitor. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing at the picture displayed.

"Hmm? Oh, that's Kamen al-Anhur. He's the head of the Metropolitan Club," I said.

"No, I mean behind him. In that crowd in the background." Raph pointed at a spot behind al-Anhur.

I moved in closer and looked. I felt a cold spot in the pit of my stomach, and quickly magnified the image.

"It can't be him … He's dead …" I whispered.

"Yeah, and so was the Shredder … Any chance it's an old photo?" Raph asked.

"No. It was taken at the gala opening a few nights ago," I replied.

"Well, then, I think we just found us a reason to go look into the Metro Club a bit closer," Raph said, moving toward the door. "You coming?"

"Yeah, I probably should," I replied. I followed Raph from the room, but not before taking a last, long look at the photo. Standing behind al-Anhur was CF Vopelhart, looking very much alive.


	5. Step Into My Parlour

**Chapter 5: Step Into My Parlour ...**

_Disclaimer:  
This is a work of Fanfiction. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all characters are property of Mirage Studios, and are licensed to Imagi Entertainment and Warner Brothers. I do claim ownership of my Original Characters, and any similarity between their names and those of existing characters in Fanfiction or Canon is purely coincidental. I make no profit from this work._

* * *

Later that night I found myself once again on the roof across from the Vopelhart. The building was quiet and dark but it still emanated a complete ... wrongness. It was illogical and certainly unscientific, but there was nothing else to say about it. Just being this close to the place made my skin crawl. Had I been religious I might have been tempted to say that the building was permeated with pure evil. 

Raphael crouched down next to me examining the building through my night vision binoculars.

"They're probably just takin' us fer a ride," he muttered.

"They may very well be," I replied. "The only thing they gave us was that photo, which could have been manipulated. And they never gave us any proof that they aren't our enemy."

Raph made a non-committal grunt and continued to watch the building.

"Do you want to call this off?" I asked.

"Nope. You?"

"No," I replied. "We're probably – no, we're certainly being used as patsies, but it doesn't change the fact that there's something wrong here."

"I haven't seen anything down there for an hour," he said, handing me back the binoculars. Without another word, he moved stealthily down the fire escape and toward a small loading dock.

With a sigh I followed in silence. Going in by this entrance had problems, but so did going in by the roof. At least I could see the camera here. On the roof there was no visible security and that made me decidedly nervous. As we got closer it became obvious that the camera was just for show. It swung from side to side and a little red light flashed, but it was quite obviously not hooked up to anything. I said as much to Raph.

"I thought this was supposed to be a high end place. Who the hell doesn't put up security in Harlem?" he whispered.

"I don't know, but I don't like it at all. We'll have to be careful of more advanced measures inside. Pressure plates, electronic trip sensors, heat and motion sensors, not to mention –"

"Whatever," Raph said, cutting me off. "You know, you tend t' babble when you get nervous."

"Right," I muttered as I pushed past him.

There were times when my brothers pissed me off, but there wasn't a lot I could do about it. After all, it was the others who acted out, not me. I suppose that, if I had really wanted to, I could have said something, or thrown a tantrum … or punched him. But I couldn't. I've never been the aggressive one, and I think that a part of me didn't want to rock the boat. So I just brushed past him and began to examine the door.

It was a standard, heavy-duty metal fire door, possibly as much as three inches thick. It would have looked completely normal if it weren't for the large electronic lock located just above the doorknob. It was an odd security precaution considering the dummy camera. The lock required both a key card and a push button code; it would be enough to deter the average thief or vandal, but it would be a simple matter for me to open it. I could feel Raph's impatient tension behind me, but I took my time. After all, if I screwed this up by rushing this, the cops would be here in no time, and I wasn't about to lose this opportunity because Raph was impatient.

On closer inspection there was something odd about the lock. The Metropolitain Club was only supposed to have been in the Vopelhart Building for a month, but this lock looked like it might be almost a year old. The chrome of the casing was scratched and dull and the numbers were worn in a very distinct patter. In fact, it was obvious that the key code contained the numbers one, two, seven, and nine, with seven and nine likely appearing twice in the sequence. Even with the party, there shouldn't have been this much wear on it this soon.

I pushed aside my doubts, pulled my electronic lock pick out of my bag, and set to work, but something continued to nudge away at the back of my mind. This was Harlem. Even after the attempts at gentrification, this was hardly the best neighbourhood. I could understand why the Metropolitan Club would choose this location, but to not have more advanced security was both arrogant and foolhardy. After all, there were tech savvy street gangs out there, and it was only a matter of time before one of them decided to break in. That being the case, the Metro Club would never be able to get properly insured without proper security unless they had …

I was over thinking the whole thing. Either this could be taken at face value or there was more here than appeared. Either way, there was nothing I could do about it now that I was here. My choices were simple. Open the door, go in, and be on my guard or go home and forget about all of this. And since I hated unsolved puzzles, going home wasn't an option.

My electronic lock pick beeped, indicating that it had done its job. I quickly put it away, took a deep breath, and reached out for the doorknob. I turned it, pushed the door open slightly, and heard nothing. No wailing sirens, no alarms. Just silence.

"Raph, keep your eyes open in there. There is something wrong here, and I don't know what it is," I said.

"Yeah, I know," he replied solemnly. "Th' whole thing stinks worse'n Mikey's room."

We entered the dark room as silently as we could, and as soon as Raph had shut the door, I flicked on a small flashlight. We were in an industrial kitchen, all steel and tile, gleaming under the flashlight's beam. Everything was exactly as it should be, and somehow I was disappointed. I don't know what it was that I had expected exactly, but I knew it wasn't this. The feelings I had for this place had made me want to expect a charnel house, not something out of Iron Chef.

I watched as Raph moved through the kitchen to the main door. It was waiter style, opening in both directions on loose hinges, and had a round window near the top. It would have been at face level, had we been taller. I came up beside him, and with my bo I pushed the door open gently. There was no reaction.

After a moment we both passed through into a large dining room. As with the kitchen, it was completely normal looking. We slowly and carefully moved our way through the rest of the main floor. Everything was as it should be. It looked just like I imagined a high scale club should look. And throughout every room, there was no additional security.

"Well this was a waste of time," Raph grumbled. "There's nothin' here!"

"Something just isn't right about this …," I began. There was that feeling again, like something tugging at the back of my mind. I was missing something important.

"Ya think?" Raph shot at me. "We just wasted an entire night checkin' this place out and there ain't nothin' t' see! I'm done with this. See ya back at th' lair."

He turned and headed back towards the kitchen.

"Wait, Raph hold on a minute," I said. "I'm serious about something being off here. I can't leave without figuring this out."

"Well that's yer problem, not mine," he said, the he sighed. "Look, Donnie, there ain't nothin' t' see here. We've been in every room an' searched this place top t' bottom. There's nothin' more t' see."

"I guess your right," I said. I was beyond disappointed. I moved to follow Raph back to the kitchen when it hit me. We hadn't come across any stairs!

"Wait! We haven't checkout out the other floors," I said.

"What other floors? There ain't no stairs here!" Raph asked.

"Exactly! But from outside there are clearly three, possibly four, stories to this building. Why make it so obvious from the outside that there's more, and then go through so much trouble to hide the stairways?" I asked. I was getting excited and I could see the gleam of curiosity in Raph's eyes too.

"Fine, so where are these hidden stairs then?" Raph asked. His tone said that he still wasn't interested, but I knew I had his attention.

I looked around the main room, trying to remember what we had seen the first time we were here, trying to imagine where I would have concealed a stairwell or a door.

"Since these guys are arrogant enough to not have security it's probably in plain sight," I said slowly, talking it out. "I think there would be one by the front doors, and then maybe … maybe there would have been one at the back."

"So we re-search th' whole place?" Raph asked. "I don't think so."

"No, not the whole place," I murmered. "We just need some place that's obvious, but unobtrusive. Someplace where guests won't stumble on it by accident, and where the people who would find it wouldn't care enough to explore it. … The kitchen!"

I turned and ran toward the kitchen, not caring if Raphael followed me. I tore into the room, heedless of all my training, and began to search. I opened refrigerators, searched through cupboards and cabinets, examined every inch of the room until I came to a large closet in the corner. Inside was a Lazy Susan filled with cleaning supplies. Dish soap, floor oil, oven foam, and powdered cleanser lined the shelves, but as I turned the unit, I realized that it wasn't as heavy as it should have been.

"What'd you find?" Raph asked, coming up behind me.

"I think I may have found our staircase, but I'm not sure," I replied as I continued to turn the shelves. After a full revolution, there was a soft click. The Lazy Susan came forward on hinges I hadn't noticed before revealing a closed pocket door. I reached forward slowly and pushed the door to the side. Just as I had expected, a staircase lay beyond.

"I guess you were right," Raph said. He pushed past me and up the stairs, moving with the slow certainty of a hunting predator.

I followed, more than happy to let him take the lead. At the top of the stairs was a short hallway that led into a large open space filled with folding chairs and a large dais at the end. It would have looked like any other conference room if it wasn't for the paintings. Each wall featured a gilt edged picture frames, and each of the paintings was covered with a thick black curtain.

"This is strange …," I heard Raph murmer.

"Why hide this?" I asked, as I approached one of the frames. I reached out to pull aside the curtain and reveal the hidden painting within, and as I did I felt something shrink within me. There was a portion of my mind that didn't want to know, that just wanted to get out of this strange place, but curiosity won out, and I pulled aside the covering.

Behind the curtain was a painting that was both beautiful and hideous. It pictured a man walking up a hill, away from the viewer. He was surrounded by a grotesque flower garden filled with plants the colour of diseased liver and ripe ground beef. The flowers were enthralling however, in spite of the colours. At the top of the hill was a gazebo that looked as if it might have been made out of bleached bones. The whole thing was wrong and it made my flesh crawl. It was a nightmare that made Salvador Dali look like sunshine and lollipops, and yet, I couldn't stop looking at it.

The painting spoke to me somehow, beckoned me to follow the path the man was taking. I felt myself being drawn in, absorbed into the image until it became reality and the place I stood was the painting. I felt myself step toward it, reaching out to touch the surface that I knew wasn't there. A portion of my mind screamed that I was being irrational, that this place that I saw couldn't be real, but a more primal part of my mind didn't care. It just wanted to be in that garden, in that gazebo. I wanted … no, I needed to see what was beyond that hill.

In the distance I heard screams of agony and psychotic laughter, and beneath it all, I thought I could hear Raphael calling my name. He was not on the other side of the hill however. All that mattered was there, all that I needed was to take a few steps further and I would be in the real world, I would be out of this painting that masqueraded itself as my life. I needed beyond anything else to go there.

Suddenly, I felt myself falling. It was like I had stepped into a hole, like someone had put a bad over my head, had robbed be of my sight. I could no longer see the hill or the garden, but I could still hear the screams and the laughter. My body shook and I was on fire and plunged in ice. I was being crushed, my life being stolen from me inch by inch, and through it all I heard Raphael calling my name.

I held onto his voice, used it like a lifeline. I crawled back, hand over hand, pulling myself toward his voice. It seemed to take my entire lifetime to get there, but somehow I did. Somehow I found my way back to my brother, and as I opened my eyes, I saw him looking down at me, and behind him stood April and Bishop.


End file.
